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Bitter Partings
Wed Nov 14, 2033 Madrid, Spain Madrid, capital of Spain, is an inelegant but lively city of numerous pubs, sidewalk cafs, boutiques, and discotheques open all hours of the night, a city of passion, art, and drama, from the ethereal paintings of El Greco to the fiery vigor of the flamenco to the deadly dance between graceful matador and snorting bull to the stately Neoclassical National Palace, which houses one of the world's greatest collections of armor and swords. Verdant tree-lined streets are lined with multi-storied luxury hotels, elegant residences, extensive libraries of ancient manuscripts and rare books, official embassies, and new office buildings encrusted with elephant-head caryatids, cupolas, and winged statues. Industry is light; most Madrileos are employed by the government, banking, or tourism. Contents: Whirl Amber MacKenzie James Bailey Velum Ultra Magnus Lars Daalgard Repugnus Obvious exits: Fly leads to Skies above Western Europe. Northeast leads to Paris, France. West leads to Lisbon, Portugal. The scene: Rodriguez EDC Memorial Cemetary, a relatively small cemetary, meant exclusively for EDC soldiers who fall in the line of duty. Technically any EDC trooper can be buried here, but it's rather odd that Franklin Cross, an American, would be buried here all the same, as the US has its own such cemetary. Even so, numerous soldiers from the EDC and officials from various governments are here to pay their dues. The ceremony hasn't started yet--hell, Cross's body hasn't even arrived yet. Rather, everyone is mostly just gathered around the open grave in which Cross will soon be interred. There's an odd addition to the visitors--Cross's jump tank, Sophia II, idling at a respectful distance away. No one seems to know what to make of it, as it's completely under the control of its AI and refuses all commands from anyone else, no matter their rank or status. Lars Daalgard is attending in his Norwegian officers' dress uniform, his crew also present, but out in the parking lot with the crab tank, which is there as part of the EDC guard. The percieved threat of Decepticon attack is evident. James Bailey stands with some of the other old-school EDCers. Of course very few of them are actually 'older' than the age of 35. You grow up fast on Earth these days. Barring some aging or de-aging affects, which is always a possibility. In any case, he circulates, talks, tries to keep the conversation light and non-political despite the impossibility given everything that's happened. If any nearby Autobots look his way he waves them over and tries to introduce them to a few of the humans he's talking to. Apocryphacius has a black band wrapped around one of his tentacles and is wearing what appear to be - sunglasses? - welding goggles? - over his eyes, all ten of them. Truth be told, he is expecting Autobots to be here, and he is not sure if he will be able to handle seeing them. Darkening everything ought to help, he hopes. The Quintesson is nervously shuffling through a somewhat dated pack of EDC-issued terrorist cards. General Faireborn has not had him brigged yet. He wonders when she will. He wonders when an Autobot black ops squad will finish what they started. He wonders which will come first. Apocryphacius almost /hopes/ that it is just Decepticons. He can deal with Decepticons very well. Amber MacKenzie doesn't really have a uniform, since her position with the EDC is uncertain. Still, she's dressed formally in a dark green pantsuit with her hair pinned up. As is fairly common for her, she's watching the others present more than the empty grave. On spotting the oddly-equipped Quintesson, she steps over to join him, wondering if Marissa will also be present. "Evening, Apocryphacius," she greets quietly. Armored Car Carrier pulls up a short distance away with a small group of Autobots, transforming, and quietly (for a giant robot) making his way towards the outskirts of those gathered for the funeral. Several officers, including three repaints of Cliffjumper are present, as is Bottlethrottle. The Autobot formation stands in a somber parade rest. Ultra Magnus transforms into his inspiring ROBOT mode! He CAN deal with that right now! Velum honestly doesn't know how to feel about this, the Nebulan holding a more neutral expression as she stands amongst the crowd in full, formal, high ranking Nebulan military garb despite no longer being part of it. It's nicer than her usual EDC outfit, at least. Even her arm is different for the occassion, switched out with a much more normal sized one, the chrome, banded metal looking far more anatomical. It may be strange for someone to offer flowers at the funeral of a war criminal, but Velum has one in hand either way as she stares at the empty grave, waiting for the casket to arrive so she can lay it down. She has her reasons. Standing amonst the assembled humans and Autobots who have come to pay their respects to the dead is Whirl. Being a robot, he doesn't have to wear any kind of funeral outfit and it's socially acceptable for him to show up to this kind of event naked. He didn't really know the deceased, he really only met him a few times and anything he knew about him was just relayed to him from other sources, but he knew he had a great mustache and surely that's worth mourning for. And who else is here but Vice President Cranston of the United States! Yes, that guy. He's pacing about anxiously, looking about ready to make good on his threat to punch someone. When the Autobots roll up, he glares at them, and shuffles up to Magnus, pointing accusingly up at him. "You Autobots have a lot of nerve being here! I heard a rumor from a RELIABLE SOURCE that it was you Autobots that killed the General! That's right, it was you guys, because you were jealous of his progress!" Some of the other mourners glance awkwardly over at the man, and try to ignore him. But Cranston is notoriously hard to ignore. Lars Daalgard keeps his stoic face extra-stoic as befits an officer and a Norwegian, but he does seem to wince a little bit at Cranston's outburst at Ultra Magnus. He had hoped the Autobots wouldn't cause a scene. Apocryphacius says lowly to Amber, "I do not... gamble. At least not, with cards. Space and time, occasionally. However, they issued us these cards a few years ago." He cut the deck and pulls out one card, the Ace of Spades: Compton Xabat. He fans out the cards around it, showing Chumley: King of Diamonds (naturally), Arkeville: Jack of Flowers, Berger: Queen of Clubs, and Dinsmoore: 2 of Spades. Then he snaps the fan of cards closed. At the arrival of Vice President Cranston, the death-masked radially-symmetric alien stares stonily. Apocryphacius isn't a /US/ citizen. (Probably New Zealand.) He knows what happened. He itches to correct the man. However, he stays silent. He does not look at Whirl or Ultra Magnus, almost conspicuously. Ultra Magnus looks down to Cranston, bringing his feet together and greeting him with a brief salute. "Mr. Vice President, if this is the kind of rumor your government has interest in pursuing, I am certain there will be a more appropriate time and place than this. The Autobots are merely here to pay respects to a fallen member of our EDC allies." "Actually, I'm just here because it beats whatever I would be doing back at base," Whirl says rather casually, not giving much thought to how totally insensitive and rude that sounds. It's not like the Autobots hired him for his tact, afterall. Amber MacKenzie murmurs, equally softly, to Apocryphacius, "The Concurrence?" She stares thoughtfully at the image of Compton Xabat and adds, "Makes a lot of sense, doesn't it?" She looks up as the Vice President swallows his foot up to the knee. "What a git," she interjects with disgust, before returning to the original topic. "I suppose we'll have to watch out for his former comrades, too... they're with Silas according to what 'Cross' said." Then Whirl demonstrates that Cranston isn't the only git present, and she rolls her eyes. Velum eventually looks up from the empty grave at the sound of the Autobots arriving, as well as Cranston berating them. This garners a grimace from the woman, leaving her spot to come up behind the Vice President, metallic hand coming up to gently rest on his shoulder while speaking in a surprising calm tone. "Mr. Vicce President, I don't think this is exactly a good time to be going into this. They've just come to pay their respects, as have the rest of us." Apocryphacius risks a glance over at the Autobots with Ultra Magnus. Three Cliffjumper repaints and... and... Apocryphacius twitches, and he looks away, obviously uncomfortable. He /not/ going to throw a scene. That would be inappropriate, and there is no excuse for impropriety. None. He is still uncertain as to what he actually /feels/. Of course he feels stupid for being duped. Of course he feels guilty; he may as well have killed Cross himself, all thing considered. Of course he feel grief and anger. The worst thing, though, he thinks is how numb he feels. Apocryphacius feels like he ought to feel more, based off normal human social interactions, but right now, there's just a whole lot of nothing. A dark void. To Amber, he murmurs, "He had facial restructuring on a genetic level. Very expensive and difficult, but seamless." VP Cranston keeps his finger leveled at Magnus for a moment, but he's clearly off-balance, his aggressive accusations faltering before Magnus's cool and even reply. "Well... er... yeah, we'll look into it LATER, so... you... you stay aware of that! Buddy!" He flinches, though, when Velum puts a hand on his shoulder. "Ahh! A robot--" He gets a better look at who the arm belongs to, scowls at Velum. With a facial expression like a child who got caught misbehaving, he shuffles off to gripe to his personal circle of yes-men. Then, the hearse carrying Cross's body finally arrives, and the pallbearers, all EDC men in uniform, gently slide out the coffin in which Cross's body lays, and slowly carry it to the open grave. They bring it to the open grave, and place it across some straps which keep it suspended above the grave until it's time to be lowered down. The chaplain appears at the head of the grave, beginning, "We are here today to honor the memory of General Franklin Cross. Thank you all for coming here." Lars Daalgard seems relieved that the Veep stood down, since no one could really make him do so if he decided he wanted to press the issue. Ultra Magnus gives Velum a nod of thanks, and shoots a stern look at Whirl. The Autobot contigent stands at attention as Cross is brought in. Franklin Cross. Compton Xabat. In a lot of ways, a man as dangerous as Galvatron himself: certainly possessing a misguided rage that cut them from the same cloth. Amber MacKenzie nods. "It had to be good to fool everyone, though I'm surprised that it wouldn't have been picked up on a DNA scan. Or maybe said scan was intercepted..." She pauses to look where Apocryphacius has looked, and her eyes widen in understanding. "Hang in there, dude. He can't do anything here." Velum returns Magnus' nod, smiling a little to the Bot, though it falls back to a neutral state when the coffin finally arrives, the woman following along with the rest to stand yet again near the gravesite. For now she just listens, standing proper amongst the other military people in attendance, fiddling idley with the flower she holds. It doesn't look like any Earth flower, though. "He cannot," Apocryphacius admits to Amber of Bottlethrottle, "but my mind plays tricks on itself." He forgets what time it is. He has memory lapses. Sometimes, Apocryphacius thinks he is back in that warehouse in Taiwan. Looking at the casket, he wonders what really would have happened if he had reported the incident properly. How General Cross would have taken it. Surely a disaster on all sides. Surely. he has a few other things to tell Amber, but for now, he is quiet. Velum's flowers get his attention. How lovely and rare! To come this far to die and wither on an alien world. What an apt metaphor. Whirl just stares at Ultra Magnus when he gives him that stern look because he really has no choice seeing as the guy doesn't exactly have any other facial expressions to choose from. The Wrecker gives a little shrug and returns to his previous stoic silence, staring down at the newly arrived coffin with his unblinking red optic. Judging by the atmosphere, he guesses this is going to be a very uncomfortable ceremony. The chaplain goes on with the funeral rites, closing with the usual, "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Now, if anyone wishes to come forward to say some words of this man, please, do so now." He steps back a bit, scanning the crowd for anyone who wants to deliver a speech or what-have-you. Ultra Magnus shoots Whirl a 'if you go up there I'll pull out your spark' glare. Whirl actually had a whole speech prepared for this exact occasion. He's even pulled out a notebook he planned to read out of but Magnus' glare causes him to hesitate. Ultra Magnus pauses, and thinks. Whirl. Honestly, probably the only Autobot that liked Franklin Cross. Even if for a stupid reason. It would probably look good for an Autobot to say something positive and Magnus is no public speaker- he's just a soldier. He gives Whirl a hesitant nod. Amber MacKenzie brings out her camcorder and sets it on wide angle, so she can simply park it on a wrought-iron railing and let it do its thing. This she does and continues to watch the ceremony and the people present. Are any of them Concurrence members in disguise? UNSC members? Silas? She doubts she could tell, if their 'plastic surgery' is so good, but maybe an attitude may come through, like dear Vice President Cranston's. Oh, and there might be some baseball fans among the attendees as well. Is that a baseball-cap clad head poking up above a headstone even now? Nah, must be your imagination, and anyway, it's already gone, so whatevs! Whirl is visibly surprised by Magnus' nod, well, as visibly surprised as a faceless robot can be. He hesitates for a few more seconds before returning the Autobot City Commander's nod with his own and stepping up to the casket. He takes a moment to look over his notes before stuffing them into his cockpit chest and clearing his throat with an overdramatic and unnecessary cough (robots dont have lungs, after all.) "Cross was a man," he begins, casting his gaze over the assembled mourners. "I can't exactly say he was a good man. In fact, he was kind of an asshole but if there's one thing I can say it is that he had a fantastic mustache. I remember the first time I met him in person.. It was this year's Olympics during a one-on-one match. I was in awe of his awesome facial hair! It was hard for me to believe that a man so ruthless, a man who wanted nothing more than to see my species wiped off the face of the Earth, could have such a beautiful and painstakingly groomed mustache. To this very day, I still think about that mustache and how it changed my life. Franklin Cross may have been a terrible human being with unsound methods and I don't think anyone will miss him in the long run, but I will say this....his mustache will be sorely missed. Truely we have lost a great man....'s facial hair this day." You could hear a pin drop after THAT speech. Everyone is floored. "And so," Whirl continues, pulling out a magnetic mustache shaped exactly like Cross' and sticking it to his face. "We keep his memory alive. Farewell, General Cross. You were...you were really something." Ultra Magnus quickly steps forward to take Whirl's place behind the podium. "Err." Blurr has arrived. "What my friend and fellow soldier Whirl was trying to say is..." He makes a face. What the heck WAS he trying to say? "We are all different. Sometimes we may not always see eye to eye...but there will always be things that bind us. Like impressive lip hair. Thank you." Magnus hurries back to his formation. Apocryphacius considers whether or not he wants to say anything. He considers what he would even have to say if he did. Not the truth. People will die over the truth. They already have. Not a lie. What lies in between. But after Whirl's speech, Apocryphacius decides that he could not possibly do worse, even if he pulled out a mind control ray and made everyone at the funeral into his willing minions. When it is his turn, he hovers up slowly and takes his place. He pulls up his sunglasses/welding goggles, and he takes a good, sober look at the crowd, for all that it makes his fuel tanks turn over. Then the Quintesson says softly, though pitched to carry, "Most will focus on General Cross's military record. However, he was a great advocate of the practical sciences and a researcher himself. He was always supportive and encouraging of my studies. What says the most about him, I think, is not how he reacted when my data fit the model. No, what is the most telling is how General Cross reacted when my data did /not/ fit the model - he accepted it. He adapted. He moved on. He did not become angry or try to change the data to fit the model, and he never blamed the researcher for a 'failure'. That is how science is. You may think that you have a model that describes physical phenomena, but if it fails to fit the data, you discard it. You create a new model. This is not a failure but a triumph. General Cross understood that." And maybe Apocryphacius's mental model about what General Cross was like wasn't accurate, either, but he finds it surprisingly difficult to discard. His piece said, he pushes his sunglasses/welding goggles back down and returns to the crowd, looking for Velum. MEANWHILE, AT GRAPPLEBEE'S Repugnus watches a live broadcast of the funeral as he drinks a cybertini with one hand and his other arm wrapped around a hooke--ahem, the Blue Femme. He watches Magnus awkwardly explain Whirl's speech and laughs out loud. "HAHA! That was great... I... I shoulda gone there after all..." he slurs. The Blue Femme sniffs the air, nose crinkling. "What's that smell?" "Me," Repugnus says rather casually. The chaplain smiles and nods at Apocryphacius, and scans the crowd for anyone else who wants to give a speech. Lars Daalgard had nothing to say publically about Cross in life, and has nothing to say about him publically in death, either. He just does his duty; in this case, attending the ceremony with all due honors, no more and no less. "Compton Xabat. Terrorist, sociopath, xenophobe, and hero. His crimes are well known, but his heroism isn't. For whatever reasons, real or imagined, he hated Cybertronians with a passion. I haven't looked at a detailed history on the man, but Autobots and/or Decepticons were on his kill list. And he had his chance to kill them all, he thought, and he was willing to die with them, as long as he could take them out, too. But that didn't happen. The sociopathic xenophobe met an alien who offered him the friendship and loyalty I doubt he'd ever experienced before; these things aren't common in his crowd. "Because of this, as he lay dying, he relented and gave his last orders to help save Cybertron, not to destroy it. He gave up his last chance for revenge, in his own mind making his death meaningless, to undo what he'd done, and it succeeded. That is worthy of honor. "One last thing. As he was dying, he mentioned that it felt good being a good guy, but that he wasn't very good at it. That was incredibly poignant, and it is worthy of sorrow, because it pointed to a possibility of redemption. That redemption wasn't possible in life but was partly gained in death. Goodbye, Franklin Cross." Amber pulls a dark red, long-stemmed rose from inside her jacket and lays it on the grave. Well, that gets an awkward reaction from... everyone. The chaplain is stunned, as are many of the mourners. A few of them are whispering questions to each other, the name "Xabat" going around a lot. And VP Cranston just sits in his chair, rocking back and forth as he chews on his index finger. He probably doesn't actually know anything about THAT, right? Well, that gets an awkward reaction from... everyone. The chaplain is stunned, as are many of the mourners. A few of them are whispering questions to each other, the name "Xabat" going around a lot. And VP Cranston just sits in his chair, rocking back and forth as he chews on his index finger. He probably doesn't actually know anything about THAT, right? Velum pretty much has her face in her hand at Whirl's speech, but thankfully Apocryphacius more or less saves it with his own speech, actually giving the Quint a nod of approval. But once it's her turn she straightens up and makes her way to address the crowd. "Thank you all for coming. I honestly think Franklin Cross would feel honored to know so many people came to see him laid to rest." She pauses to push a bit of hair behind an ear, clearing her throat. "In all honesty, despite his shortcomings, I respected the man. His love for his planet, despite being misguided, was something I haven't seen since my people defended our own home. But in the end, even after all of the wrong, he made his last choice. The right choice. To show that even a man such as him could have an ounce of good within him. I truelly respect that." And with that said, Velum takes her own flower and lays it upon the casket. It's nothing compared to the flowers of Earth, though one's imagination would likely identify it as something that looks like a cross between a sacred lotus and a tiger lily, the explosion of petals Apocryphacius looks like someone hit him with an axe between the eyes at Amber's speech. Did she seriously. Wait. What. Oh Newton, Amber MacKenzie is a dead woman. Apocryphacius pulls off his sunglasses/welding goggles, stomaching his discomfort with the Autobots, and he starts looking for snipers. Velum's speech, unfortunately, is something of a blur to him. "Ohohoho, this just got a whole lot more interesting," Whirl says after Amber gives her speech, twiddling the tip of his 'mustache' with his claw hand. Coming to this thing was a good idea after all! Amber MacKenzie strolls casually over to Sophia II, oddly enough, and gives the tank a sympathetic pat; she's reminded of a grieving dog after its master's death. After that, she seems to disappear among the grave markers. Maybe she'll be staying there permanently... Her small camcorder, hopefully unnoticed, still sits by itself, recording the proceedings. Combat: Amber MacKenzie slips into the shadows and out of sight... Amber MacKenzie moves northeast to Paris, France. Amber MacKenzie has left. The crowd seems to settle down somewhat at Velum's speech. It's perfectly reasonable and polite. Then they're alarmed again as suddenly something swoops overhead and lands in the cemetary! The crowd gasps! It's a... "I've a few words for this fallen human," Cyclonus says, dusting himself off. "And be at ease, I am not here to fight. I am here only to pay my respects to the General. For you see, we are so short on worthy adversaries within the Autobots. It was quite a pleasant surprise for us to see that it was the humans of all beings who summoned forth a champion who could challenge us." He smiles. A little. "Well fought, General. You shall be given a place of respect in the Hall of Conquerors, so that the Decepticons may know what a truly formidable opponent is like. That is all." And with that, Cyclonus transforms and flies off. Just like that. Whirl looks over at Bottlethrottle and the Cliffjumper repaints. "Who was that guy?" Lars Daalgard discreetly backs out of the funeral and gets into the motor pool in case any more Decepticons show up and decide to be less complimentary. Lars climbs up and takes command of his Centurion. Apocryphacius reaches for his EDC issue sidearm when, Cyclonus, of all Decepticons, happens to appear. (Miss MacKenzie seems to have vanished; hopefully the Baseball Cap Agents didn't get her.) He blinks several times. Are the Decepticons... seriously? /Seriously?/ Even in death, General Cross makes life /so weird/. The chaplain is flabbergasted by the appearance of a Decepticon! But... fortunately he didn't kill anyone. Cyclonus is evidently too civilized for that. "....well, I believe that is... everyone who wishes to speak. Thank you." He backs away, and the firing party takes this as their cue. They step forward. "PRESENT ARMS!" They raise their rifles to the sky, firing three volleys, and back away again. A Spanish (!) flag is laid across the coffin, and as the honor guard sings, "La Muerte no es el final," which means "Death is not the End," Cross's coffin is slowly lowered into the grave. And finally, his headstone is set into place, and it reads not Franklin Cross, but Compton Xabat! How did this happen? Maybe Xabat arranged it himself before his death?... Either way, VP Cranston gasps at seeing the headstone, and, as if being chased by Xabat's angry spirit, runs out of the ceremony, his lackeys following at his heels. Blurr had been out speeding down the open road when he'd caught sight of Cyclonus swooping down a gathering of Autobots and humans. Alarmed, he rushes over to the event with his weapon trained on the Decepticon. He's a bit confused by the situation, though, it seems as though everyone is watching something. When he comes near, the wind and dust kicked up make a mess of flowers and other decorations. He glances at Ultra Magnus. "What's going on here?" Apocryphacius does not put his sidearm away, though he keeps it pointed down. There is a Decepticon around! Justifiable paranoia. It's not that he wants to just go to town on Bottlethrottle. really. At the Spanish flag, and "La Muerte no es el final," and the headstone... Apocryphacius breaks down laughing. "-ahahaha!-" switch "-ahahaha!-" switch "-ahahaha!-" switch "-ahahaha!-" switch "-ahahaha!" Apocryphacius transforms into his Apocryphacius mode. Apocryphacius transforms into his Apocryphacius mode. Apocryphacius transforms into his Apocryphacius mode. Apocryphacius transforms into his Apocryphacius mode. Apocryphacius transforms into his Apocryphacius mode. Ultra Magnus lifts a hand towards Blurr. "Holster that sidearm, Blurr." He gives Cyclonus a stern look, but does not leave formation. And then Apoc starts losing his crap. "Autobots," He begins quietly, as Cyclonus speaks, "remain in formation at parade rest." He watches Cyclonus fly away with a steely gaze. STEELY! Blurr is hesitant to put away the weapon, that is until Cyclonus leaves. "What?! Whattheslagwasthatallabouthuh?" He has reverted to his natural way of speaking. "Cyclonuswashereandthenhejustleftjustlikethatheleft?" Apocryphacius is not losing it (at the moment; in general is up for debate). That is just how Quintessons laugh sometimes. He puts his sidearm away, and he smiles, a death-grimace. The Quintesson steeples a pair of tentacles and remarks to no one in particular, "Well played. Futile, but well played, sir." He cannot help but feel some admiration, despite himself. General Franklin Cross... Compton Xabat was a man with a bomb in his skull, ready to be triggered by a radio frequency. He was a man on a leash. It would seem that, in death, he has reclaimed a measure of freedom. Well, this funeral sure turned out to be way better than Whirl thought it would be. Franklin Cross was actually a terrorist, a Decepticon showed up to pay his respects, and Apocryphacius is freaking everyone out with his crazy alien laughing. All in all, it was a good day. "Woah, Blurr!" Whirl laughs a bit at Blurr's crazyintense way of speaking. "You're a bit late to the party, you missed all the good stuff." Suddenly, you hear Franklin Cross's voice! "Well, I'm kind of worried about Apoc, Sophia," he says from... somewhere. "I know something's really bothering him, but he won't tell me what it is. Maybe it's not fair for me to expect him to tell me when I've... got my own secrets, but still, I just hope he's going to be okay, especially when... when I'm gone." Oh, right, that came from the tank, Sophia II. The tank pivots around then drives off down the road. "Party?" Blurr turns to Whirl. "Psh, this isn't a -party-." he says, waving a dismissive hand. At least not in his mind. He glances at the coffin that is being carried off. "So who's in there? Some human, huh?" Apocryphacius freezes cold, his gaze unfocused. Did he really just hear...? He looks right and left, trying to determine if anyone else heard that. Is he just hallucinating? Because he could be. Then Apocryphacius makes a shrugging gesture and tries to follow the tank down the road, though it will likely outpace him. It does. Easily. THOUSANDS OF YEARS LATER "Wooaaaahhhh!" a boy cries as he falls down a hole, but he manages to somehow land without breaking any bones. He stands up, looks around the strange underground cavern he's in... and he sees a red and white tank in there with him. The tank's lights flare up, illuminating him. "*Wow!*" the boy exclaims. The tank's canopy opens. The boy hesitates, but then he realizes... he can have his own tank, just like every boy ever wants! "This is awesome!!!" he cries, and climbs inside, and together they both ride out to defeat the resurgent threat of the Lightning Beings.